


Cracks in the concrete

by Lady_Aurora



Category: Dredd (2012)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emptiness, F/M, Loneliness, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Aurora/pseuds/Lady_Aurora
Summary: The constant anonymity, sea of faceless people crowding the ruins of the old world. The meaningless existence in continuous fear, pain and despair. You get used to that, you have no other choice.
Relationships: Joseph Dredd/Original Female Character(s), Joseph Dredd/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Beautiful People!  
> I had this idea in my head for a while now. It’s a bit depressing, but I still hope you will like it.  
> English is not my mother language, so I apologise in advance for any mistakes you may find.

It is so easy to feel alone in the crowd. Countless men and women surrounding you and yet, you feel like you’re the only person on earth. No one truly knows you, no one would miss you if you were to disappear. That emptiness was filling her since she could remember. Her mother used to tell her stories about another world, a better world. The same stories she had been told by her mother who heard them from hers. That world was long gone. All that was left was ash and concrete. The constant anonymity, sea of faceless people crowding the ruins of the old world. The meaningless existence in continuous fear, pain and despair. You get used to that, you have no other choice. You learn to let that numbness surround you, take you and finally, protect you. Nothing can hurt you if you can’t feel anything. You can’t be disappointed if you expect nothing.

Sun has set a few hours ago. As she stood in front of an open window, trying to catch some cooler breeze after another unbearably hot day, she wondered how the stars on the sky would look like today. She wished for a miracle, for a moment of clarity to be able to see them just once in her life. The idea of the universe, of its infinity always gave her a slither of hope. Maybe there was a place where life was easier, where the tales of forgotten times had a chance to become reality. Maybe. But she didn’t know anyone who was blessed enough to see even one star in their lifetime. Dust was covering the sky and even if it didn’t, the brightness of the countless lights from this enormous, restless city would make it impossible to see anything.

When it became hard to breathe she had to close the window. Air conditioning it was, then. She didn’t know why she still was opening a window every single night. A force of habit, probably. Her father used to do that. He’d said it helped him feel less cadged if he were able to breathe the “real air”, even if it was as polluted as it gets and it was just for a moment.

She probably should have been sleeping by now. She was supposed to start her next shift in seven hours, six am sharp. She knew very well that she would be tired and grumpy in the morning if she didn’t go to bed soon. Well, more tired and grumpy than she usually was. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt rested or relaxed. Yet, for some reason she stood looking down on the city, in spite of the fact that she was not even able to see the street from the 90th floor.

Her musings were interrupted by a loud ping. Someone was at her door. She was not expecting company. She had no close friends to spend her few free evenings with. If it was an emergency she would have been called on her com. She was not startled, though. She was inside the Hall of Justice, for Christ’s sake. It was as safe as it got.

In order to open a door one needed to scan their palm. She went over to the door to read information on the screen. Oh, she should have expected that. Remembering who took over the shift after hers ended, _him_ being here was not much of a surprise.

With a heavy sigh she opened the door. There went her going to bed early.

“Dredd.”

“James.”

He came inside and locked the door behind him. Without another word he took off his jacket and after hanging it on the back of one of the chairs, sat on the other. He offered no explanation, but there was no need to. It was clear why he was there. He needed some stitching up as most of the judges did every day if they were lucky to come back alive. He did what he could by himself but there were things only a medical professional was able to help with and no matter how they wanted everyone to think that judges were indestructible, they were still human and had their limits.

“Robbinson?”, she asked, when she took out her medical bag from the closet.

A grunt was her only answer. She couldn’t blame him. She hated Robbinson, too. He was obnoxious, petty and was not able to keep his mouth shut. He loved feeling in charge and was using his position in all the wrong ways possible. When you mixed Robbinson and Dredd together, well, let’s say it ended up badly a few times before.

She and Dredd had sort of a quiet understanding. She accepted that her job was to fix him up as best as she could and not even try to tell him he needed to rest or slow down because that was absolutely pointless. He was his job and she was hers, she understood that.

They were not friends. She was not sure how she should name their relationship, if you could even call it that. A few years ago he saved her life. She was taken hostage at the hospital she worked then. He was sent to resolve the situation and ended up shooting the guy holding a knife to her throat. He could have shot her as well in the process, she was very well aware of that. She was also well aware of the fact that Dredd didn’t care. She meant nothing. He didn’t shoot that man to save her. He did that to manage a drug robbery in progress. Still, she was alive thanks to him. Then, when she was asked for her statement a few days later, she was offered a job in the medical ward of the Hall. To this day she had no idea why but was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth and gladly accepted.

She could not pinpoint the exact moment when their weird connection started. She patched him up a few times in the ward when he was beat up badly enough to be forced to come there. They never spoke much to each other. She did her job as best as possible, told him what the absolutely minimal requirements of his recovery were and that was it. Maybe that’s the reason he started coming to her room when she was not on call. Maybe because she was not trying to do everything as it was supposed to be done, to make him take the time off, to nag him to do things differently. She has never seen a reason to. There was no point. Trying to change people, to tell them what to do only ever led to conflict and frustration. In a perfect world he would be able to rest after being injured, to heal properly. Well, in a perfect world there would be no reason for judges to exist at all. But what point was there to tell him to “take it easy”, that he was just human and had his limits, that this was going to hurt or that was dangerous? He knew that, that was not his first rodeo. He was very well aware of what pain was and probably lived in it for years now. He needed to be able to get back on his feet, to function and go to work. That was his way and she accepted that.

Maybe that’s why he was choosing her to fix him. Or maybe not. There was no way to be sure about anything with him. The only thing she was quite certain about is that for some inexplicable reason she came to like him and his company. Silence between them was always comfortable. There was no pressure for awkward small talk. On the contrary, it was best not to speak without reason. If she did speak though, if she asked him about something, he was always painfully honest. There was nothing soft about him – all rough edges, short and directs answers, no pretences. Maybe she felt so good around him because he seemed to understand the emptiness she constantly felt. Maybe, or maybe not. Maybe that was just the way he operated and there was nothing more to it.

She came back to the table and put her bag on it. Dredd was sitting already shirtless waiting patiently for her to start. He was so stiff that he looked like a statue. If not for the light twitching of his leg, she would think that he has fallen asleep.

There were a lot of small cuts and bruises, as usual. There was also one large bruise on his ribs, meaning that probably few of them were broken. But the most worrying was a nasty gunshot wound on his chest, just next to his right arm and under his collarbone.

“Can you breath properly?” she asked, grabbing an instrument that looked like a an old vacuum cup. It may look simple but it worked wonders with broken bones. The things modern medicine was able to do were never ceasing to astound her.

“No.”

After giving him a shot of painkillers and antibiotics, she put the device onto his skin and activated it. It was supposed to localise any broken bones and put them into place, then help activate their quick recovery. He should rest for at least two days after that procedure, but, well, it was better than nothing.

In the meantime, she was cleaning and stitching his wound. The bullet went through his chest and it was a small miracle that it didn’t rapture his lung.

“I need to see you in two days to take out the stitches and put a skin graft on it,” she said, as she finished with the dressing.

She was about to turn around and start packing up her stuff, when she saw a trickle of blood behind his ear, coming from under his helmet.

“Take your helmet off.”

“No.”

She was not sure why she didn’t leave it alone. If it was serious, he would have showed it to her. Or would he?

“Take your helmet off. You’re bleeding.”

“No.”

Just that, just “no”, no further explanation. Surprisingly, this time it irritated her beyond reason. Maybe it was because she was tired or it was just not her day. Surely not because she was worried in any way.

“You come to me for help. I never ask questions, I am never nagging you about anything,” she said, looking directly at him. She hoped she was looking straight into his eyes but it was impossible to know. “It works as long as you are honest with me and as long as you trust me. If that doesn’t suit you, if you won’t let me do my job then you may as well leave but please, never come back”.

There was a long silence that followed. She was not sure why she spoke so harshly. She expected him to stand up, take his things and leave but after a moment, infamous frown getting as deep as ever, he raised his helmet off his head and put it down on the table with a loud thud.

“Satisfied?”

This time there was no question what he was looking at. He was looking her straight in the eyes, like he was daring her to say something snarky.

“Quite.”

She was trying very hard not to stare. It was strange to see someone’s face for the first time after you’ve know them quite a while. Sometimes she wondered why it was so important for him to cover his face. The harder you try to hide something, the more it tends to intrigue people, a simple truth. She was always sure it was not a matter of vanity or a game of some sort. He was way too straight forward for that. She also never believed in stories about some traumatic disfigurement and as it turned out, she was right. She would not pick him from a line-up. Just another man. Handsome, sure, very much so, but just another man. Her best guess was that there were two reasons behind his choice. First, protection. They can’t hurt you if they don’t know who you are. Second, depersonification. He was not a person when he put on his uniform. He was an institution. It must have been easier to think as a soldier, almost as a machine, when you were shielding yourself with an armour. He had a goal, a mission. He was not allowing anyone near enough to see through that. He was not allowing himself to have any feelings. Emptiness. It was much safer and more comfortable living in that nothingness inside the walls he built around himself. But was she not doing exactly the same?

Without another word she started cleaning the wound on his head. It was deep, she was able to see the bone. It should not be possible to be hurt like that while wearing a helmet. Maybe someone had succeeded in taking it off after all. If they had, they were most surely dead.

She must have pulled the stitches too tight or given him not enough painkillers earlier because at some point he hissed and jerked his head. When he moved, his lips brushed lightly against her nipple. She jumped frightened by a sudden movement and the unexpected touch. Shiver ran down her spine and her stomach clenched as she swayed a little on her feet, losing balance for a second.

His hands shot out to steady her, more out of reflex that anything else. She suddenly became aware of a fact that she was wearing only a thin top and shorts, as she was already going to bed when he came to her room. She didn’t care what she was wearing, it was not important then. Now though, when she realised how close they were it suddenly started to matter. Her skin burned where his hands held her naked thighs. What's more, she probably should not be standing between his legs but it was just easier that way when she worked and she hadn’t thought about it before.

For the first time the silence between them felt thick, charged. Their eyes locked. There was always a clear line between them. It had been nothing more than a professional service, maybe a quiet understanding if you looked hard for it. She was a doctor, he was a judge. Nothing more. She had never even thought about him in any other way. Now, suddenly, when he was deprived of his last shield they became just a man and a woman. For a moment she allowed herself to really look at him. His eyes were brown but the longer she looked at them the more specks of green she found. His nose was slightly crooked, clearly being broken a few times before. Black hair in a need of a cut. A deep scar reaching up from his forehead, intersecting his right brow and going down to his ear. A five o’clock shadow of his beard. He looked at her with a question in his eyes but whether it was a question for her or for himself she had no clue. The whole situation was surreal. She thought about kissing him and it made her more excited that she remembered being since a long time. Should she do it? It was definitely a terrible idea, but should she? Maybe it would make her feel alive again, even if just for a split second. He was looking at her lips now, probably thinking about the same thing. Would it be so wrong to pretend for a moment? To let him touch her, to forget about everything else, to just stop thinking.

But before she could make her decision, the device she put on his ribs earlier ended its job and signalised it with a loud pop. It was enough to break the moment and make the tension disappear.

She cleared her throat and took a small step back. His hands slipped from her legs somewhat reluctantly but maybe it was just her imagination telling her that. She took the device off his chest and finished closing the wound on his head with a skin glue. Her hands were shaking too much to try anything else.

“As I said earlier, I need you to come back in two days,” she said, as she was finally putting things back into her bag. Her voice sounded quite steady and hopefully much less tense than she felt.

“Yeah,” was the only answer she got before she heard him put his top back on and grab his jacket from the back of the chair. She turned around only when she heard the door lock behind him.

She sighed heavily and leaned back on the table. Nothing changed. Everything was as it has been before. The silence, the emptiness, the almost unbearable loneliness. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling cold, despite the warmth of her room. Like that brief moment of oblivion made it all even worse. It felt like looking through a rip in a curtain on something that may be. The realisation of its impossibility made her chest hurt. There was no escape, she’s accepted that a long time ago and it was best for her to remember that.


	2. Chapter 2

For the first time she was angry that the door to her room was closing so quietly and she was not able to slam it behind her. She was fuming and needed to get it out on something. That day she had probably one of the worst shifts of her life. She lost four of the people she was treating and to top it all off, Robbinson was particularly nasty to her all day. That misogynistic, slimy, sick fucker. She was furious, irritated beyond reason and wanted to break something. She felt tears of tiredness and helplessness stinging in the corners of her eyes. No, she would not give him that satisfaction. In addition to that, for the last two days she was almost constantly on edge. She could not deny that. Something felt wrong in her stomach, like a living thing took up residence inside it. She felt uncomfortable. Her skin seemed too tight for her. She was not able to sleep, to fully focus on anything. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was well aware of what that was. Arousal. Constant, all consuming, almost painful arousal.

As she entered her room, she went directly to the bathroom. She threw her clothes into the hamper and stepped into the shower under the stream of steaming water. One of a few luxuries she was allowed was an access to hot water for a few minutes every day and she was about to take full advantage of it. Taking her mood into account a cold shower would probably be a better idea but she loved how her tensed muscles relaxed under the hot stream, even if just for a second.

As she allowed herself a moment to soak, she then leaned her back against the cold tiles. The coil in her stomach returned in full force. She was trembling, breathing heavier than she should given what she was doing. It was enough, she had no more strength to fight it. Her hand slid down to her core. Even though the water was still cascading down her body she could feel how wet and swollen she was. Her fingers easily slid inside her and she pumped her hand a few times, feeling herself tighten around them. She was so worked up that she was already on the brink of an orgasm. She knew that a few tight circles around her clit would be enough to send her over the edge.

Suddenly, through the fog of the pleasure that was taking her, she heard a ping of the scanner at her door and then the door opened and closed with a quiet snick of a lock.

Fuck.

She completely forgot. Dredd. In her truthfully rather pathetic attempt to knock some sense back into her head, to highlight that their meeting was strictly business, she had put their appointment into her official schedule. This meant that he was able to come inside without her acceptance. But that was just it, wasn’t it? He were to come to get his stitches taken out, nothing more. She expected him not to come at all as he had done many times before. This time though, apparently it was one of the few occasions he decided to follow up on her recommendation. She probably should have stopped him, tell him to wait, shut the door and make herself presentable. She really hadn’t planned this. Yet, she stood frozen with her fingers still inside her, panting.

She heard a few heavy footsteps and then, he stood in the open door straight ahead of her. The hot shower made the glass doors fog slightly but she still could see him pretty well. For a few heartbeats they just looked at each other. Probably he thought she orchestrated the whole thing. She expected him to turn around and walk away. Her heart was hammering in her chest, muscles still spasming around her fingers. This was wrong on so many levels.

He became more of a blur of colours, as the glass continued to fog up. Why was he not moving or saying something? Why he hasn’t left? The tension between them was becoming almost unbearable.

Then, she saw him move and something heavy was put on one of her shelves with a loud thud. A sound of a zipper being opened and another thud followed. Then boots being kicked off, a clank of metal and a rustle of leather.

She was hardly able to take a proper breath. He was not about to... Was he?

She saw him coming closer and then he slid the doors open and stepped inside under the stream of water.

Her tiny shower seemed even smaller as his large body took every bit of space around her. This time there was no question in his eyes. No hesitation but certainty and purpose.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her fingers out of her heat. As he did that and her fingers brushed lightly against her clit her knees almost bucked. He turned her hand palm up and poured up some soap on it. Then he put both of her hands on his chest.

She was quite relieved to feel his heart beating almost as fast as hers was. However, his face showed nothing. He just looked at her with firm, expectant eyes. It felt almost like a challenge. Maybe he was expecting her to back out. Well, if he did, he was about to be very much surprised.

She let her hands slid down his chest to his abdomen and then back up, massaging and caressing as she went. She could feel many scars under her fingertips. Some small and almost flat, some long, purple and ropy, easily visible in spite of the time that has past. A story of life and death told by flesh and skin.

When she went down to her knees to slid her hands down his legs, she could hear him stifle a quiet moan almost lost in the sound of cascading water. His hands twined into her hair and pulled tightly on them, making her look up at him. He could have been the most stoic of men but apparently a sight of a woman kneeling before him was enough to break even him.

She knew what he wanted and she was eager to give his that and more. Still looking at him, she rubbed her cheek against his cock. His grip tightened even more and he pulled her mouth insistently onto him. She went willingly. There was nothing she wanted more in that moment than to find out how he tastes like.

The water was making it impossible for her to keep her eyes open. As she closed them all that was left was the sound of water and his taste on her tongue. She allowed him to guide her head, to move as he needed her to. She was not able to stop the moan that vibrated through her and she knew he must have felt it because his hands tightened almost painfully into her hair and his hips thrust uncontrollably making her take him a bit too deep for her comfort. She welcomed it though and didn’t pulled off. The ability to stop thinking for a moment, to just let herself feel and get lost in that moment was freeing. The emptiness seemed smaller, almost nonexistent for a second. She took him as deep as she was able to, hollowing her cheeks and sucking hard.

Not long after that, he jerked her head back and pulled out. She opened her eyes again, despite the water still pouring down on her face. She could see his chest heaving, his lips open, breath leaving them in short pants. Infamous frown was gone, replaced by an almost relaxed expression. She has never thought that he was even capable of looking like that. It didn’t last long, though.

He pulled her up and slammed his lips against hers. The kiss was hungry, sloppy, rough, just as she would expect it to be. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, twining his fingers into her hair again and pulling roughly. He kissed her with enough force to make her head fall back. She clang to his arms, her nails scraping against his skin. She could feel that water was getting cold and soon it would be unpleasant enough to make them stop. It made her even more desperate. She was afraid that when the moment breaks, he will come back to his senses and leave. She deepened the kiss even more, grabbing his neck with one hand and twining the other into his soaking hair. One of his arms slid to her waist, pulling her into him. Her nipples were grazing against his chest, his cock was trapped between their bodies. The feeling of him against her belly made her rub against him wantonly.

The moment she was about to ask him to pick her up and just take her there and then water turned freezing cold. They jerked away and she turned off the tap as fast as she managed. Without looking at him, she slipped out of his arms and got out of the shower.

Her knees were unsteady but she managed to grab a towel and as she was wrapping it around her hair, she left the bathroom, heading straight to her tiny bedroom. She dropped the towel on the floor a moment later and stood in front of her bed, dripping water onto the floor. She was trembling, waiting and desperately wanted him to follow her.

The next few second felt like hours with the silence ringing in her ears. Finally, she heard bare feet on the floor coming towards her. She sighed deeply and her body relaxed visibly.

He came to stand behind her and for a moment neither of them moved. She was able to hear his breath, to feel the heat radiating off of his body. Before she could turn back to face him, he swept her hair over her shoulder and touched his lips lightly to her neck while his arms slid around her waist. Another emotion she didn’t expect him being capable of showing – tenderness.

He pushed her forward, making her kneel on the bed and then further, until she was leaning on her elbows with her hips pushed up high. He rested his weight on his arms next to hers, his lips still on her neck, sliding them up and down, leaving a hot, wet trail on her skin.

The way he was holding her, his size, so much bigger than hers, the weight of his body on hers made her feel safe. At that moment her world shrunk to her small bed and the all-encompassing feeling of a touch of another. It allowed her mind to stop, to be blissfully empty for a second.

After a moment, he straightened up and grabbed her hips with almost bruising force. Yes, that was more like the things she expected of him. She felt him lick a trail from the base of her spine all the way up to her shoulder. She shivered uncontrollably and was not able to stop the breathy moan that escaped her mouth.

He took her with one thrust, hard enough to push her forward on the bed, while his teeth sunk into her skin. Her lips opened in a silent scream, as air was pushed out of her lungs. She welcomed the pain and the fullness, the feeling of him inside her and around her. She wanted more, she wanted _all_.

She pushed her hips back against him, encouraging him to move. He didn’t need to be told twice. He fucked her hard, relentlessly, almost violently and she loved every second of it. The sound of skin slapping against skin and his ragged breath in her ear were driving her dangerously close to completion.

Suddenly, he shifted and straightened up, pulling her with him. She was practically sitting on him now, taking him even deeper that before. The loud moan that she was not even trying to stop this time caught up in her throat when his hand wrapped around her neck. His grip was tight, not enough to hurt but just enough to help her mind to go blissfully blank. His other arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Her head fell back on his shoulder and she let him move her as he wanted to. She relished into giving up control. To be able to just feel, to not have to make any decisions, even if just for a moment, was pure delight. She was trembling, sweaty, almost feverish and yet she felt better than she had for a long time.

Soon, the tension in her core broke and she came with her eyes opened wide, gasping for air. Her mind was swimming and for that beautiful moment nothing mattered. Everything was focused entirely on the tingling that went from her spine to the tips of her fingers and toes as her body went limp in his arms.

His hand slid from her throat to her breast and holding her almost painfully tightly to him he thrust hard into her a few times more and came too, with nothing more than a grunt muffled against her neck.

For a moment they stayed like that, him holding her slump and spent body into his arms, until he leaned forward and let her fall on the soft mattress. She was laying on her side, trying to catch her breath and waiting for her heart to slow down and her limbs to start to function again.

She was sure that he would leave but again, another surprise. He fell on the bed next to her, burring his face into her hair and throwing an arm over her hips.

She was not sure how long they were laying like this until her mind was painfully brought back to reality. That changed nothing. That was just a crack in the concrete, nothing more. You do not expect a house to fall down just because its walls crack. It is how it is. The cracks appear when there is too much pressure but they change nothing. The house will still stand. A little weaker but still strong enough to withstand everything thrown at him.

At some point she will have to stand up, do what he came here to do in the first place and then... Then he is going to leave and there is no guarantee that she will ever see him again. Even if she will, well, it still changes nothing. The emptiness, the loneliness, the pointlessness will still be eating her alive. But was this brief moment of oblivion worth it? Would it be an escape worth repeating? Probably. Maybe. Or maybe not.


End file.
